A Bad Day (Book 2): A Bad Day

by DiMauro, Thomas

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A Bad Day

  Part 2

  By Thomas DiMauro

  Edited by Tina Winograd

  Copyright © 2018 Thomas DiMauro

  All rights reserved.

  Cover image and design by Thomas DiMauro

  To Sheila whose love and support made this book possible.

  To John for your lifelong friendship and inspiration.

  Special thanks to Tina who went out of her way to make me a better writer.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Cherry Ridge - Morning, Wed Sep 4

  An explosion rocked the Humvee tipping it onto two wheels for an instant before it slammed down once again on all four. A shower of dirt and rocks rained like an apocalyptic hail storm.

  Flames and black smoke carrying the acrid smell of burning rubber rose from the front right side of the vehicle. The spider-web cracked windshield obscured the view making the direction of gunfire difficult to discern. A searing white-hot pain radiated up his leg.

  Reverend Maurice Walker drew in a sharp breath as he stared down at his feet hanging from the edge of the bed. The look in his eyes made it clear what he saw was much further away in both distance and time. His focus returned to his feet. One flesh and bone. The other titanium and polymer. Tucked into his shoes, it would be impossible to tell this was the reason for his slight limp.

  He moved to his bedroom window to look down at the storage shed and its new sign that read "Food Pantry." Multi-colored pennants hung from strings streamed from its doorway to several trees in the backyard. Left over from the grand opening Sunday when the town still had power. Since then, the power had gone out, and no one knew why.

  Maurice shuffled back to his bed and continued to get dressed. He pulled on a black T-shirt which covered several tattoos and scars on his light brown skin that would shock the congregation at the Cherry Ridge Episcopal Church.

  On his right shoulder he had the drawn head of a growling pit bull in a spiked collar with the words "Mad Dog" inked underneath. A dozen jagged scars pock marked his chest and tattooed on his left shoulder, a parachute with wings and a swimming scuba diver. "Force Reconnaissance" arched above the diver and below in Latin read, "Semper Fidelis."

  "Celer - Silens - Mortalis"--Swift, Silent, Deadly--stretched from shoulder to shoulder. Not the Latin words one would associate with their pastor.

  His gaze fell on the nightstand next to his bed and its two drawers. Sliding over until his leg almost touched the nightstand he sat on the mattress, resting his arms on his thighs, hands facing up. His breathing became slow and steady as his eyes traced patterns in the floorboards. He reached over and pulled open one drawer.

  His hand sank into it and he withdrew a Beretta M9 the finish dulled and worn to the bare metal in spots. Loaded, the pistol weighed two-and-a-half pounds and its heft felt comfortable in his large hand.

  He stared at it for a while and then brought it up to his nose resting the cold steel of the slide against his lips. It smelled of gunpowder and oil, and if he closed his eyes, he would swear he even smelled the sand that permeated everything over there.

  But he made sure not to close his eyes too long, because if he did, the faces would appear in his mind. Before that slide show began, he put the gun back and opened the other drawer. He took out an orange prescription bottle, removed two pills and tossed them into his mouth like jellybeans. He swallowed them dry, with a wince, and replaced the bottle as his wife Mahirimah walked in.

  She was a beautiful woman despite the prominent scar on her right cheek. Seven years younger than him, she had long, thick, black hair down to her shoulder blades he loved to run his fingers through. Her soulful dark eyes emanated the sadness of someone who had seen too much. She sat on the bed next to Maurice and ran a hand along the stubble of hair on the back of his head. He turned to look at her.

  "Are you okay?" she asked, searching his eyes.

  "Yup. Doing just fine," he said, forcing a smile.

  She looked at him with one raised eyebrow, said nothing, but never broke eye contact.

  He let out a long sigh of submission. "Okay, okay. The power being out this long has me worried. The power goes out and everything stops. I'm surprised you can still take a dump with no electric."

  She chuckled. "If we had well water you wouldn't be able to. Anyway, we've had the power out longer than this."

  "Yeah, during a winter storm. There wasn't any storm. Just that weird flash of lightning that woke me up, but no thunder."

  "That was probably a transformer blowing."

  "You're probably right, but I'm going down to the police station to have a talk with Caine and see if he knows anything."

  "Good idea. That should ease your mind. Meanwhile, I will run the generator for a bit to get our fridge cooled down."

  "Is Ann still coming by to open the food pantry?"

  "She said she would be."

  He shook his head and stood. "I told her not to bother. What, with the power being out and all."

  "You know that project is her baby."

  He smiled. "I know."

  "I was thinking of making mansaf tonight in celebration and having Ann and her daughters to dinner." She stood and moved toward the door.

  "Mansaf?" he blinked at her incredulous. "What's the special occasion?"

  "Well, to celebrate the food pantry and because it's one of your favorites."

  "It would have been my choice for the last supper."

  "So you've said."

  "Wait, how can you make mansaf without jamīd?"

  "You can't. So I had my mother send me some."

  "Ah, so this was all premeditated. You're a crafty woman." With that he smacked her bottom. She gasped and turned, eyes wide with an accusatory finger aimed at him.

  "You..." she began but then he took her in his arms and kissed her passionately.

  "Sorry, what were you saying?"

  "Uh...you...you are lucky that I like you."

  "Yes, very lucky," he said, looking into her eyes. He kissed her again. This time gently.

  "Now, get going," she said, turning away and smiling.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Maurice headed out of his bedroom and down the long wooden staircase of his Victorian home. He kept one hand on the railing to steady himself. Stairs were tricky to navigate with no feeling in one foot. It seemed to be easier climbing than going down.

  He stopped at the coat rack inside the entrance. After putting a cap on and checking himself in the mirror, he stepped out onto the expansive porch then down the three stairs to the sidewalk.

  The police station sat a few blocks away from the church on a side street off Main. The long narrow building made of cement block and aluminum with three attached garage bays housed two patrol cars and one rescue vehicle. Here, the rescue vehicle was nothing more than a four-wheel-drive pickup with a winch and a covered bed filled with gear. If not for the sign above the door that said police, it could be mistaken for an auto repair shop. On his walk, he noticed the sky had
become overcast in just a short time. The temperature felt a few degrees cooler than yesterday's.

  When he got to the station, for the first time since he had lived in Cherry Ridge, he found the door locked. He cupped his hands around his eyes and peered in through the window but couldn't see anyone inside. Then he knocked, but no one answered.

  He was about to leave when a patrol car pulled into the driveway in front of one of the garage bay doors. Ignacio Spinone, who everyone called Iggy, must have been finishing his shift. He was in his late twenties and the women in town seemed to think him handsome. Maurice always thought he was kind of a dick.

  The passenger window rolled down, and he called out, "Hi, Reverend, can I help you?"

  "Hi, Iggy. Just looking for the chief."

  "He's in there, but we locked the door since Patti is out on account of the power failure."

  "Do you know anything about what may have caused it?"

  "I've heard weird chatter on the HAM radio that doesn't make sense. I think there must have been a transformer explosion that caused it. A few hours into my shift I saw a bright flash of light with no thunder and then the power went out a short time after that."

  "Seems like a reasonable explanation. What did you hear?"

  "Nothing worth repeating, Reverend. No sense in spreading rumors," he said with a smirk.

  "Uh huh," Maurice said as a sense of unease resurfaced. "Of course."

  "I can let you in," Iggy said, stepping out of the car and pulling a key ring off his belt. He unlocked the deadbolt and held the door open for Maurice.

  "Thank you."

  He walked in to a counter where the receptionist would have been. Behind her seat in a big open room were two desks, file cabinets, and a small kitchenette. The chief's office was all the way to the rear of the space.

  The town police force had five officers, an office secretary, and the chief of police, Caine Corso. Everyone throughout the small town knew and liked Caine. Maurice and he had become fast friends because of their shared Marine Corps and Middle East history even though about a dozen years separated their tours.

  Maurice walked around the counter and headed straight back to Caine's office. He knocked on the door and walked right in to find Caine flipping through an old copy of Playboy magazine.

  "Don't you wait until someone says 'come in' before you come in?" he said, tucking the magazine into his desk drawer.

  "Caine, you're hard at work as usual, I see."

  "Forgive me father for I have sinned," he said, smiling slyly.

  "Cut the bullshit, Caine, you know full well that if there is a hell you and I will both be going there," Maurice said as he took a chair at the desk.

  "Yeah, well, it was worth a shot. Is this a social call?"

  "Business, I'm afraid."

  "What's going on?"

  "That's what I'd like to know. Any ideas why the power's been out this long with no storms?"

  Caine sighed and rubbed the stubble on his chin. He looked down at his desk for a moment and then back up at Maurice. "What I tell you needs to stay confidential for now. I can't confirm any of this and I don't want people going around spreading rumors and panicking."

  "Okay," Maurice said. His gut felt like he had swallowed ice.

  "I found this out from Iggy through the HAM radio he has. This power outage appears to be widespread. Looks like the whole grid is out in the northeast. It seems like there was some kind of earthquake and tsunami situation on the coast. From what I heard, it looks bad."

  "Sweet Jesus." His gaze moved from Caine and flitted around the room. A long pause followed. "What's the mayor saying--"

  Caine put his hand up to stop Maurice. "The mayor traveled down to New York City on Monday and I haven't heard from him since. I'm sending a deputy out on a patrol later today. I will have him drive south for a while stopping along the way to see what he can find out."

  "That's a start I guess."

  "I want to gather as much information as possible and then we can put together a town hall meeting tomorrow or Friday night."

  "All right," Maurice said, standing. "Anything I can do in the meantime?"

  "Pray." Then he thought for a moment. "Maybe you should delay the opening of your food pantry for now."

  "But Ann..." his voice trailed off, he nodded. "Okay."

  Caine stood and put out his hand. "Just to be on the safe side."

  Maurice took it and nodded again. "I agree." He turned and walked out of the building looking older and grayer than when he went in.

  CHAPTER TWO

  David and Ivy trapped - Morning, Wed Sep 4

  The exit door of the alien ship slammed shut stopping Ivy and David in their tracks. They gasped at the finality of the sound. Ivy had a tense, sick feeling like that moment you realize you've sliced your finger open and you know it will hurt in a second or two.

  After she had dispatched the group of aliens and all seemed quiet, they thought it would be safe to come on board. Their curiosity had goaded them forward. It had seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity. Now that lifetime appeared as if it might be much shorter than she expected.

  She let David go and he faltered to his knees from the sudden lack of support. Running to the door she tugged, kicked, and pounded it with her fist. The light in the airlock transitioned from a daylight to a dim amber giving everything an eerie quality.

  "Ivy. Ivy. I'm pretty sure that's pointless," he said, trying to get himself off the floor.

  "Well, what should I be doing then?" she snapped.

  "Help me up and let's go into the back," he said, putting out his hand, "and best have that hand cannon of yours ready."

  His calm demeanor confused her, but she helped him anyway. "Is there another way out?"

  "Since we're stuck in here for the time being there is something we need to have a look at." He opened and closed his hand into a fist. He studied it for a moment noticing the taut skin with pale edges that meant edema. He frowned at the sight.

  "Something?"

  "Come," he said motioning toward the entrance to the rear compartment. Though he didn't bother to check, he could feel swelling in his legs and it made his movements both painful and slow.

  As they inched toward the portal, Ivy heard a giant clock ticking in her psyche counting the seconds to her imminent death. They moved through the main compartment now lit in a bizarre magenta color with its enormous obsidian console and egg-shaped seats, avoiding the potted marijuana plants.

  They stepped through the door and she stumbled, taken aback from the unexpected sight. Across the small compartment was the body of an alien. It lay in a shallow tub immersed in a translucent purplish liquid. There were tubes or cords connected to either arm and several that disappeared below the liquid.

  They took a few tentative steps forward, noticing its closed eyes and wound in the center of its chest. A small hole that reminded her of gunshot wounds she'd seen in the ER. Ivy kept her revolver low but ready as they crept closer to it. Her breath quickened along with her heartbeat and the hand holding her gun trembled. The entire scene seemed unreal, like a display at Comic-con for a new movie.

  Perhaps her sheer curiosity propelled her forward despite her fear or perhaps it was disbelief. Several of the tubes entered the alien's body like IV lines and catheters. Others were immersed in the purple liquid. Perhaps to filter or warm the fluid. She couldn't be sure.

  When they were only a foot away, she noticed something like a fine silken thread dangling over the creature's oversized forehead. It only caught her eye because of the shimmering movement of a single drop of a viscous fluid that flowed down it and then dropped off onto a spot on the creature's head.

  She looked at David and then released his arm. Prepared this time, he steadied himself with a hand on the wall. She switched the revolver from her right to her left hand and reached out for the thread. David grabbed at her to stop her, but she shrugged him off and caught a drop on her fingertips.

  The drop f
elt oily, and within seconds of it hitting her skin, her breathing slowed and her heart rate returned to normal. The ache in her back from the fall she had taken earlier seemed to lessen. She suddenly realized how hungry she felt and couldn't remember the last time she had eaten anything.

  She held her fingers to her nose and inhaled a familiar pungent aroma. Her posture straightened and eyes widened with recognition as she smiled. She felt giddy. David looked at her confused and she stepped over to him and held out her fingers. He sniffed them and a flood of recognition came over him. His eyes darted back and forth in thought.

  "Holy shit," he said aloud, forgetting himself. The words barely left his lips when the alien's eyes opened and it sat up.

  The sudden movement sent David and Ivy scrambling backward to a safer distance. It thrashed around pulling at the tubes and trying to climb off the table. Ivy raised the revolver, but instead of shooting, she stared at the thing in fascinated horror.

  Its mouth opened and closed repeatedly, and it let out chilling high-pitched moans. It tore many of the lines out getting to its feet, but its movements were awkward and instinctive, not purposeful or deliberate.

  They watched it for what seemed like forever, frozen in place slack jawed and wide eyed. Then it collapsed to its knees, and all motion halted. Staying that way ever so briefly until it pitched forward face first to the floor.

  The only sound was their heavy breathing. They looked at one another. David made an opened hand gesture and Ivy shrugged in reply. They eyed it for a moment, but it seemed to be still. She walked toward it keeping her gun pointed at it. When she got close enough, she poked at it with her foot and then jumped back for good measure. It remained still.

  "Sugar, honey, iced tea. I think I may have just wet myself."

  "If we don't get out of here soon, you may have the chance to shit yourself too."

  "Lovely."

  David picked himself up off the floor and walked closer to the alien. He stood there a moment staring at it. "My god, I feel like absolute hell." Opening and closing his hand and grimacing.